Torn Apart
by moredancing
Summary: <html><head></head>Garion is  more or less  happily married to Ce'Nedra.  But what secret yearning is he hiding?  Set quite a while after the Malloreon.  I don't like writing summaries.</html>
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Anything or anyone you recognise belongs to David (and Leigh) Eddings.

**A/N: **Mist is my own invention. I'm not quite sure what she is yet. But she is definitely female. Some adult themes but nothing explicitly explicit. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

The jewel of the Empire sat staring out of her bedroom window at the drizzle of the rain as she rocked her youngest to sleep. The babe sighed contentedly to itself and she looked down at him with a soft smile. He had come as rather a surprise: she and Garion had decided that six was probably enough since, as Garion had put it with a slight raising of his deep blue eyes towards the high ceiling of the Hall of the Rivan King, there was no way they were going to be able to keep up with Relg and Taiba, or even Aunt Pol and Durnik, for that matter. Ce'Nedra smiled to herself as she tucked her son gently in his cradle. Hettar was right: it was definitely cheating for Taiba to keep having her children in twos and threes.

She was in a pensive mood but did not feel like going to bed just yet so she made her way back over to the window seat. Her eyes fell upon the note Garion had left her nine days ago. So many years since she had taught him to write and he still couldn't sound natural in written correspondence. Her train of thought took her back to the previous notes he had left her. Then things had been different. Those notes had explained that he was leaving her temporarily, just like this one, but then he had not altogether had a choice. With all that had been at stake, the feelings of mutual attraction between two pawns of the Prophecy had had to be surmounted.

Her reaction this time had been different too. She had not broken one single breakable thing when she found the note: a sure sign that the years had mellowed her, even, she might go as far as to say, made her wiser. Throwing a tantrum would have been so childish: Garion had never given her any reason to doubt his deep love and absolute devotion to her. She knew that his feelings for her were as deep as hers for him. But he didn't necessarily need to know that, she thought with a tinge of youthful mischievousness. It was always good to keep the menfolk off-balance and a little uncertain. That way you were in control. Even now he had still been unsure of her reaction to his announcement that he was going on a journey. On his own. He didn't know where he was going or how long he was going to be. No one was to be told he was going, they would just have to manage without him for a while. He felt like he needed time alone, to think, away from everything. In a way she had almost been expecting his decision, the Imperial Princess reflected. Garion had not asked to be king and Godslayer and all the rest of it but his innate sense of decency and duty had compelled him to complete what had been started for him so long ago that, according to Belgarath, even the Gods didn't exist.

But logic did not make things any easier for him to bear. Even though being the Rivan King was not quite so earth-shaking as it had been, leadership was still a burden to him, even as it was to any good monarch, be he willing or unready. Although it was said that "if you want something done, you should give it to someone who is already busy", Ce'Nedra rather thought that the Prophecy operated more along the lines of "if you want something unpleasant to be done well, you should give it to someone decent who does not have the faintest idea of how it is done but will try their best because no one else would do more". The long years carried so many memories and their weight was taking its toll on her husband.

She had decided that, during his absence she would not worry unduly for his safety: his "big knife", as Silk had once called it, would probably be more than a match for any situation he might be likely to encounter. She was more concerned for the directions his thoughts were likely to take him in and the actions that might be the consequences of these thoughts. To set her mind at rest on this count she had experimented with Beldaran's amulet and had found that she had not lost the long-unused skill of pinpointing one particular conversation. She then found she could let her heart guide her "ears" towards Garion, just for a short period of time, so as not to give away her presence, but long enough to reassure herself that he was still alive and intent on remaining so.

In fact it was probably time for another check. The tiny woman concentrated, putting her hand on her amulet and she felt the familiar feeling of her heart taking flight towards the east. Every day it went a little further, every day the dread of anticipation lasted an unbearable moment longer, even if by now she expected it, but she held on to the thought that if ever it started to take less long then it would mean that he would be on his way back to her. After what seemed an interminable age she felt the familiar impression of his being and then she heard his voice. This was unusual. Before he had been particularly hard to locate because he had been alone, so the only form of conversation she had heard had been a low, indistinct muttering. She could just imagine his handsome brow wrinkled with worry, frustration, regret, guilt, anger, even, one particularly bad time, fear. But this time his voice was clearly audible, although no less laden with emotions. It started off faint, as it always did, but as she perfected her range, she began to make out exactly what was being said.

"You know, Garion, I never did pay you for those sweets you had got for me. And as a Sendarian, it goes against the grain to be indebted in any way."

"Oh Zubrette, that was so long ago. There's no n…mphmph hmmm." There was the sound of slow, heavy breathing. "You make it very difficult to refummph…" Further sounds bearing a suspicious resemblance to those of wordless pleasure ensued.

Ce'Nedra removed her hand sharply from the amulet and stood up, anger coursing through her veins, her brain searching for the nearest breakable object. And stopped. Not of her own free will: she just suddenly couldn't move. A figure moved into her field of vision: it was Mist, Silk's strange friend from the Academy, whom she had met at his and Liselle's wedding. The paralysis left the Tolnedran's limbs as the other woman spoke quietly, nodding towards the blessedly still silent cot:

"You only just got that one to sleep. You of all people should know what will happen if he's woken up too early. And frankly the vision of your mother screeching like a Camaar fishwife surrounded by flying shards of pottery and glass is not the best thing to see when you first wake up. It's usually advisable to know the full story before you start redecorating. You, like all parents, seem to have the knack for picking up exactly the worst moment possible in any given episode. Also I often find that images add volumes to the sound, as it were. And now you've missed the live ending. We'll just have to watch it all in replay then."

The light tone of her voice did not detract from the seriousness of her words, slightly foreign though some sounded to Ce'Nedra. Mist sat down next to her and held out her hand. The tiny queen took it and was immediately taken to the middle of a wood…

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><p><strong>AN: **Hope that was an enjoyable start! The next chapter will be up soon. Please R&R!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Same as previous chapter.

**A/N: **Sorry about the wait! I've had nearly no time since the last update and May Day, as it is for morris dancers across the world, is a very busy day. But hopefully this will have uploaded as I want it to and you will enjoy it.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Walking through the middle of a wood, Garion decided, was one of the best ways to think clearly. Any wood would do, he supposed, but it would have to be wild, untamed, untouched by human presence. Having grown up in Sendaria, where everything was regulated as much as possible, he appreciated all the more seeing nature in a state unchanged by man's hand, oblivious even of his very existence. You felt as if you were at the beginning of time, when everything was fresh and new: the whole of the future was yet to be played out. Aunt Pol and Ce'Nedra would probably express this feeling much better than him. He smiled to himself as he remembered when he had first been to the Vale and his aunt had been distracted by all the birds welcoming her. And how his wife experienced that same abstraction when she was near any trees and particularly when she "met" the Tree. No, he was not alone. Certainly there were no humans nearby but that didn't mean that as he voiced his thoughts aloud there wasn't something, someone to hear his grievances, perhaps even understand them, and maybe in some way comfort and guide him towards finding a solution.

His thoughts chased each other around his head in a confused silent cacophony. This was another reason he didn't want company: as he set up a small tent, lit the fire, dug a cesspit, collected firewood, fetched water, dug up worms, he did everything by hand, not using any sorcery. He felt more real and the work helped to distract him from his thoughts, the past and the future by helping him to focus on the immediate and necessary present. Now he understood why his Aunt Pol had always found something physically hard for him to do while Ce'Nedra was giving birth. Not having a horse was also good because he didn't need to look after it and he was always tired at night after a hard day of marching. This contributed very much to keeping the nightmares at bay: not even loneliness could defy physical exhaustion.

Though it was only a little after midday he had a feeling that fish would be good for supper and that this pool, with a little encouragement, would yield a few tasty morsels. He sat on the shore and let the cool ripples soothe his aching feet and the sighing of the wind through the leafy branches of the trees lulled his mind enough for him sort out one thought from another. On the one hand it was very simple: he'd just needed to get away for a bit. On the other hand it was very difficult: there were so many reasons for this need, all mixed together. The main reason was probably age. It was decades since he first took the throne and the responsibilities were starting to weigh heavily on his shoulders already bowed by years so numerous that he had stopped wanting to count them long ago. He couldn't imagine how Belgarath and Polgara could stand it. He was beginning to understand when his ultimate grandfather had described his life as a long funeral: his co-rulers were steadily being replaced by their sons and daughters. Queen Islena of Cherek passed away and Anheg, a real gentle giant, followed a year after. He hadn't seen Zakath for many years now since neither his friend nor his wife could hardly walk any more. But worst of all was losing his friends. Lelldorin and Mandorallen, though younger than his other companions, now mostly stayed at Korodullin and Mayaserana's court, training young knights. Nerina had left them many years back, so she did not have to suffer the loss of both the men she loved as she had so feared. After Merel's death, Barak and Greldik had left on a voyage to discover what lay beyond the Isle of the Winds if one went far enough West. This had been fifteen years ago and they had heard nothing for about ten of those. Hettar could no longer ride and Adara cared for him at the Stronghold, occasionally helped by Ariana when she visited. Relg and Taiba had died on the same day: the story went that Taiba, exhausted by so many births, felt her time coming and Relg, who was very old by then, asked Ul to make it so that neither would mourn the other. But of all his friends, the witty little Drasnian was the one Garion would most miss. Although Durnik, now that he was a sorcerer, would live longer than a normal human, Silk who had been born around the same time, had died only a few months ago, leaving Velvet, so much younger than him, to make sure their brood were successful at the Academy. He suspected Prala was suffering the same fate but he wasn't sure because she and Urgit had gone travelling around boundless Mallorea and they had had no news for many months.

Without these friends who had seemed a constant support during the troubled times, the burden of running a country was worse than it had ever been, even when he had still been getting used to it. Of course he had more experience to rely on now and his elder son and daughters did most of the ruling but the final word always came to him and the responsibility of having to do what was best for most of the population was still a weighty responsibility. This trip was in part caused by this: Zakath had once remarked how difficult it was to get away from all these decisions but he didn't have the advantage of being able to fly off his castle walls, the only bit of sorcery Garion had used on this journey. It might have been nice to have had the opportunity just to become a farmer and lead a simple life, but then it would have been even harder to get away: at least as a king he knew that he could come back to his job and he would still eat. He had never asked for such advantages though, nor had he asked to be a sorcerer. There simply had been things that had needed to be done and all had been prepared for them to be done: he had had the "misfortune" of being the one chosen to do them. Not that he hadn't been rewarded: he had a loving wife and seven wonderful children and they were starting a new unknown era in time but he had never got to choose. No, that wasn't quite true: taking decisions meant making choices and not all of those had been the right ones but he had done his best and had, somehow, muddled through. No one would have done more than that and no one could have done either.

He felt something tug his rod: supper was just on the end of his line. His thoughts turned to more mundane matters throughout the evening as he prepared and cooked his catch and turned in for the night.

As was his wont, he awoke the next morning with the dawn chorus. He washed in the pool and broke camp, taking care to leave as few signs of his passage as possible. He continued on his way until late afternoon. It was then that he became aware that he was no longer alone. Someone was walking towards him from his right and their paths would soon cross. Before he could make up his mind, as to whether he wanted to meet this stranger, the person in question came out of a thicket a little ahead of him. His sharply indrawn breath attracted their attention and they turned to him.

"Garion?", the woman said a little unsure. She took a couple of hesitant steps towards him. "What are you doing here? Are you on your own?"

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><p><strong>AN:** Hee hee, who is this then? Most, if not all, of you will probably have guessed by now but, in case you haven't, here's a clue: all will be revealed in the next chapter. *maniacal evil laugh* But do R&R anyway!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Same as first chapter.

**A/N: **Well, here she is! Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

Garion just stood there. He couldn't believe his eyes: her beautiful long hair, once loose and flowing, now gathered in an elaborate plait down her back, her soft white hands, wrinkled and no longer as soft as they were but still delicate, her eyes ever young and sparkling with merriment. Since that fateful afternoon, which Aunt Pol had insisted upon to tie up loose ends, he had thought never to see her again. He had certainly not heard anything of her since then. And yet Zubrette stood before him, laughing just as she used to. She sat down on a fallen log and patted the soft moss which covered it.

"No one else could look quite so openly surprised at seeing an old friend. Aren't you glad to see me?"

Garion managed to shut his gaping mouth, nodded and sat down next to his childhood love, who added: "I'm very glad to see you. I often dreamed of you, after you left, both times. I never dared to hope we would meet again. I live just a little way to the east. Now I'll ask again: what is the King of Riva doing alone in the middle of a forest?"

The Overlord of the West recovered himself enough to answer: "Don't call me that: just Garion, like you used to. It's wonderful to see you too: I didn't expect to either after we left for the second time." Still overwhelmed by this happy encounter, he didn't quite know how to continue so he fell silent. But after a moment they both asked at the same time: "So what happened to you?" and soon they were both lost in the recounting of their separate lives followed by the whirlwind of shared childhood experiences.

"Do you remember the Cuckoos' Wood and how every year we would each hope to be the first to hear one?"

"Do you remember the glade of violets with the badgers' set in it?"

"Do you remember the field of daisies where the white rabbits always had a burrow?"

"Do you remember the winter the pond froze over? What snowball fights we had!"

"Do you remember you fell in the following summer because your makeshift raft fell apart?"

"Do you remember when Aunt Pol caught us in the barn?"

Zubrette laughed merrily: "That must have been the obvious excuse ever: "Garion was just getting something out of my eye." ". She was thoughtful for a moment. "You know, Garion, I never did pay you for those sweets you had got for me. And as a Sendarian, it goes against the grain to be indebted in any way." She leaned in closer to him.

"Oh Zubrette, that was so long ago. There's no n…mphmph hmmm." They drew apart slightly to catch their breath. Garion tried again, attempting and failing to ignore the feelings that the proximity of Zubrette's still slender body was causing. "You make it very difficult to refummph…" Garion lost himself briefly in the kiss that had haunted many of his youthful dreams but then he pulled away.

"NO! This is wrong!"

"It's only a kiss. Who's to know? Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it!"

"As Aunt Pol once remarked: "Just a kiss? And an even greater foolishness next time?" I don't deny that I did not find it unpleasant but…get OFF! I don't want to hurt you but you do realise that if our roles were reversed you would be well within your rights to be shouting "RAPE!" at the top of your voice by now?" Garion tried to make light of the situation but Zubrette just gazed back at him mournfully and, if he were brutally honest with himself, looking rather like a kicked puppy.

"You say you don't want to hurt me but you are, now even more than before, since now I am sure of your feelings towards me."

Garion could tell that a long and understanding explanation was going to be needed:

"All right. Just hear me out. I know I am trying very hard to ignore my feelings. But there is more at work here than just a man and a woman feeling a mutual attraction. You know what happened after Aunt Pol left Faldor's farm and took me with her? Surely you've heard the stories." Zubrette nodded so Garion ploughed on. "So you know what happened. If we had stayed at Faldor's and Aunt Pol hadn't turned out to be Polgara the Sorceress and I hadn't become Belgarion, then I would have wished for nothing more than to be your husband and spend the rest of my life with you. But that was not an option that was open to us. I expect you have also heard all that has happened concerning my wife and my eldest son. It is entirely possible that if we had got married regardless of anything else, then I would have lost against Torak. There wouldn't have been a world left worth living in. I would still have been the Child of Light and you would have been the Bride of Light. Would you have been able to raise and unite the armies of the West as Ce'Nedra did? Would you have been suited to the hard life on the road and then the rigours of ruling a country?"

He paused. During his speech Zubrette had kept her eyes cast down on her hands that were resting on her lap and now her shoulders slumped in resignation. She shook her pretty head slightly and Garion took her hands in his. "I wouldn't have wanted that sort of life for you. I said as much to Rundorig. You deserved security and certainty. For my part…"

Garion paused again, unsure how to continue. "As a musician, whose hands are bloody from playing all evening, will always, when requested, play one last dance, I will do what is needed to be done to put the world, even the universe, to rights. Though he knows it will bring him great pain, the minstrel will play for joy. The joy he will get from playing beautiful music to the best of his ability, the joy the dancers will get from dancing one more time, the joy he feels when his music brings joy to others. Seldom have I experienced such a wrenching feeling as when I feigned for Rundorig's sake that my feelings for you were no more than strong friendship. To force my eyes to lie to you in that glance we exchanged is one of the hardest things I have ever done. And yet it was not a complete falsehood. Friendship, affection even, I was allowed and I accepted it. We had both found a different love, even if I did not quite realise it at the time. But loving Ce'Nedra doesn't mean that I loved you less than I did when we were children. As Aunt Pol's father remarked: "We have a great capacity to love. Just because we love one person doesn't mean we love the other person less." You will always be like a sister to me."

He stopped then because Zubrette had taken his chin in her delicate hand and was looking deep into his eyes:

"You are right." She gave a small laugh. "You were always right: you were always the thinker, the sensible one in our group, although your aunt might not agree with me on that point." With that, Garion's protests that she had always been the one with the ideas for games were silenced and he grinned back. "If we were a body then Rundorig would have been the flesh that makes it up, Doroon would have been the energy to make it move and I would be the heart that makes it live. But you would be the brain to stop the body from destroying itself through madness."

Garion looked thoughtful about this idea and she added playfully: "You're not the only one who can think in metaphors!"

Garion smiled: "But the brain left and the heart had to grow wiser. Then the energy also moved away but energy can be found in many different shapes and forms. The main components survived…"

"And more. My family has grown and I cannot say that I am unhappy with my life. It could have been a lot worse. But I couldn't help but wonder how, if, it would, could, have been better. However…" Zubrette's face lit up: "I've always wanted a brother."

Garion's expression was just as impish: "Come to think of it, I've never had a sister before."

His new "sister" stood up: "Well then, brother dear, you had better walk me home. It is getting dark and you never know what untrustworthy people your little sister might meet on her way back home alone."

He laughed and took her arm. They went on, discussing many more childhood reminiscences they had in common. As the sun set, the couple walked arm in arm along the road 'til they came to the welcoming little cottage where Zubrette had raised a family, where Rundorig had died and where the man she now considered her brother, at least for one night, supped and slept. For the first time in years his sleep was deep and peaceful, untroubled by nightmares he could never remember. What had begun when he had learned of Adara's identity was now complete: the child within him, who he had been and which was at the centre of his being, would never again be lonely.

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><p><strong>AN:** Nearly done, just a few loose ends to tie up. The little blue button you have been looking for is just below. Go on, press it, you know you want to!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Yep, still the same as the other three.

**A/N: **As previously mentioned, just a quick conclusion to tidy things up.

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Mist removed her hand from Ce'Nedra's and made her way silently out of the room, her work done. The princess hardly noticed, her mind still a little overwhelmed at what she had just witnessed. The anger she had again felt in the moment of Garion's weakness was long gone, be replaced by a cocktail of emotions: immense pride for his courage, guilt for her doubts, wonder for his depth of understanding, all mixed inextricably but bound together by love. This deep love she felt was so strong that, even if Garion had succumbed to Zubrette, Ce'Nedra wouldn't have been able to hate him for ever. Perhaps if she had been younger, she might, but now life was too short and she knew just how much she cared for her husband. Even if his betrayal would have hurt her more than she wanted to imagine, she would, after a while, have steeled herself and concealed it for it would have been too painful a burden for her to bear to see him suffer as well as herself.

The next day when she checked on Garion's whereabouts the Rivan queen was confused and elated. Confused because he felt different compared to the other times, somehow less distinct, no matter how hard she concentrated. He only became clearer when she glanced over at the old wolfhound lying in front of the fire. Then she was elated because Garion felt nearly twice as near as he had the previous day and the only explanation for this sudden reduction of distance was that he wanted to get back to Riva, to her, as quickly as possible and this meant 'going wolf', as the sorcerers termed it. The baby cooed in his cot. Ce'Nedra picked him up and held him close. She took him over to the window and gazed out hoping, though it was impossibly early, to see her beloved husband's form, animal or human, on the horizon.

Garion, as a falcon, landed in a concealed inlet on the Isle of the Winds and changed back to his human form. Though the cold dawn wind chilled him to the bone and the clouds were a cheerless grey, he felt a vast peace fill him. He made his way up to the Citadel and he saw his beloved wife waiting for him at the top of the steps, carrying their newborn Garath. The wind made her unbound hair swirl around her shoulders but the rising sun illuminated her face and reflected off her copper curls. She was smiling. As he went to meet them, he felt that there could be no greater joy than that which he was feeling at that moment. He was home.

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><p><strong>AN: **The End. First chaptered fic complete. Yippee! Thank you for reading this to its conclusion. To those of you who have reviewed, I love you, if you haven't yet, there's no time like the present :) .


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